Ignorant Bliss
by AmbrosiaBunny
Summary: Ignorant Bliss can often be just that, bliss. When a situation Draco can no longer handle on his own forces him to go to Dumbledore he will have to stop ignoring his Veela pull and come to terms with the idea as 'The Weasel' as his Veela mate.
1. Ignorance Is Bliss

Alert slate grey eyes scanned the spacious common room with a lazy dislike. "Blaise?" demanded the casually coiffed blonde whilst snuggling further into the depths of a black sofa, unconsciously leaning towards the roaring fire captured behind a solid steel grate in the centre of the Slytherin common room.  
  
Blaise Zambini, a boy with sharp chocolate eyes and a casual stance shrugged nonchalantly in the younger Malfoys direction. "Yes?"   
  
Draco raised emotionless eyes and arched a perfectly shaped silver eyebrow, "Have your family requested your presence for the holidays?"  
  
"No, my family have some pressing engagements to attend to, not requiring my presence, I'll be staying here."   
  
The underline statement being business with the remaining followers of the late Voldemort, ceasing to be at The Boy Who Lived wands tip.   
  
"Why? Need some help with lover boy?" continued a grinning Blaise, swiftly ducking the silk cushion aimed for his head.  
  
Draco sent him an icy glare, then smirked as Blaise ducked the green cushion he had launched at him in response.   
  
Blaise lifted his head up again, gave Draco a pointed look and carefully placed his falcon-feathered quill onto the tabletop. Almost lazily, with the air of one who had been brought up in as much splender as Draco himself, Blaise picked up his wand and murmured the keeping spell onto his inkpot. He rose from his chair, rolled up his History of Magic essay and made his way over to Draco. Gracefully swerving the multiple dark squashy armchairs littering the Slytherin common room he strode over to the only occupied sofa.   
  
Plonking himself down next to the now well-buried form of Draco Malfoy, he narrowly concealed a concerned depth in his warm chocolate eyes. People may believe that the younger Malfoy was cold and vindictive towards everybody to cross his path, and for the most part, he was. There were however, some exceptions to this. Blaise being one of them.  
  
Blaise swivelled his head to look behind the sofa, spotting three lower years crouched around a table flooded with parchment, looking anywhere but at the parchment. He gave an impatient cough and turned a piercing glare onto the three remaining lower years in the room as they looked up, listening with an open interest. Upon seeing the dark haired boy's expression they swiftly proceeded to pack up theri parchements and scuttle from the room.  
  
At the sound Draco too turned to peer over the back of the sofa at the three students. He watched with amusement from under hooded eyes, as a mousy, short, rather plump girl tripped over his earlier ammunition in her haste. A chuckle slipped past his lips and she blushed a crimson so deep, had she not been in the Slytherin common room in the first place he would have mistaken her for a Weasley.  
  
Once all the remaining years had found other, more pressing matters to attend to, Draco turned away from the closed door and silently cursed himself for seeing a Weasley trait in everything. He pointed his ebony wand at the offending cushion, muttered the levitation spell and waved his wand with an aggitated flick.  
  
The deep green silk of the cushion appeared from behind Blaise's previously occupied table. The cushion soared over his rolled up History of Magic essay to land with a soft plop next to his unoccupied side of the sofa. Draco kept his eyes glued to the cushion as if it were an ancient relic he had just discovered.  
  
Blaise tipped his head at an angle and waited patiently with the background knowldege of one who knew the other, for Draco to speak. After several minutes of silence he rasied an eyebrow, turned his face fully towards the silver haired boy and prompted Draco gently, "Well? Is it, uh, well, still there?"  
  
Frowning, Draco graciously pulled his long slender legs up onto the sofa. He wrapped his nimble fingers around his knees and looked up at Blaise, impatiently swatting at platinum strands determined on falling into his sharp face before answering.   
  
"Of course it is. I need to be near him, the pull is grating at my nerves. God damn him!" Draco exploded, leaping up from the sofa with a sudden burst and throwing his hands up into the air above his head with a frustrated shout, "It. Will. Not. Leave."   
  
Blaise surveyed this rather unexpected explosion from his comfortable position on the sofa and calmly waited for the outburst to cease. Shaking his head slightly with a sympathetic look towards the blonde, he nodded to the space beside him.  
  
Draco fell resignedly into the luxurious comfort offered to him. He muttered in his frustration, the words barely audible from his bowed head. "Stupid, adorable, freckled bastard."  
  
Blaise chuckled quietly at his closest companions' ramblings and spoke up in a commanding fashion, "Stop fighting it, you know as well as I do the effects it's having on you. Go talk to Dumbledore."   
  
Shock and disbelief registered in the silvery eyes as they silently mocked Blaise. "That doddering old fool?" exclaimed Draco.  
  
Two dark eyebrows creased in exasperation, causing dark bangs to skim Blaise's eye line. He shook his head in annoyance, both at the ignorant determination within his friend, and in order to dislodge the irritating strands of hair from his eyes. "Yes! Just go and tell him!"   
  
"I have no need to go and converse with that idiot," huffed the younger Malfoy, lifting his head in an arrogant fashion and turning his broad shoulders away from Blaise.  
  
Bowing his head and soothingly circling his temples in clockwise motions Blaise sighed. Rolling his tired eyes to the ceiling he silently prayed to be in one piece the following afternoon, "Petrificus Momentus Totalus!"   
  
With a look of undisguised shock, Draco fell from the sofa head first off the sofa onto the hard stone floor, still in his sitting position.   
  
Blaise bit his lip to stifle a laugh and glanced down at the incredulous expression remaining on his friends face, his body frozen in the sitting position he had previously relaxed into earlier.

"We are going to visit an old doddering fool," Blaise said, immediately grinning at the horror and scarcely hidden embarrassment in the pale boys eyes. "Wingardium Leviosa," enchanted Blaise, marvelling silently at his own daring and the improvement in his magical ability from the first year, from floating a feather, to a Draco Malfoy, in the air.  
  
Draco's eyes widened as he attempted, fruitlessly, to look at his now immobile, floating, body. His silver eyes scanned back down to Blaise's amused face and the steady wand clasped in his hand.  
  
"Hmm. You can't very well float down the corridors, you'll have to be hidden, but neither of us owns an invisibility cloak or anything similar."   
  
Chewing his lip in thought, the tanned boy glanced up at Draco seeing the smug look in his eyes at the hitch in his plan. Sudden light erupted onto Blaise's face as he shot off through the common room to disappear down into what was seemingly a gap in the floor, which was in fact the stairs leading to the seventh year dormitories.   
  
Draco hit the floor with a loud thud as soon as Blaise turned his back. Pale eyes attempted to follow his rash movements, but gave up once the dark boy had moved out of his fixed eye line, only perking his ears up at the sound of feet descending stairs. Confusion and discomfort at being abruptly dropped onto the solid floor as Blaise rushed off reflected in Draco's cold eyes.   
  
Distant banging from his right could be heard followed by hurried footsteps ascending the stairs.  
  
"Oh!" exclaimed Blaise in sarcastic shock, the added humour at the situation clear in his voice at realising in his sudden rush he had left Draco and as a reult the levitation spell had ended, his wand no longer being trailed on the boy. All in an _accidental_ manner, _of course_. Blaise chuckled.  
  
Soft laughter could be heard to Draco's right and the pale boy, frustrated and drowning in his own hopelessness now attempted to growl.   
  
"Sorry Draco. I remembered a camouflage and diversion charm in our charm textbook," said Blaise, grinning hopelessly at his usually poised friend lying awkwardly on the floor, still enchanted in the body bind, looking so ruffled.   
  
Distant fright could be seen in Draco's eyes, on remembering Blaise's bleak first tries at this spell. In a first effort at camouflaging a plain wooden box to represent the surroundings of the stuffy charms room Blaise had mispronounced the spell. The wooden box had not met a pleasant end, being irreversibly stuck on a charms table, now holding inkpots. Draco Malfoy did not wish to become the next human inkpot. His hair clashed terribly with the tables in the charms room.  
  
Blaise too, it seemed, was recalling his first tries at the certain spell. However his usual optimism won out and he began the spell. "Wingardium Leviosa," he intoned, steadying his wand on Draco's slim form and gradually levitating him into the air once more. Blaise scrunched up his face in concentration as he spoke the second enchantment, "Conmentento Diversificate."  
  
Draco's eyes popped open after hearing Blaise's words and registered amazement at his now reflective appearance showing him the roaring fire and black sofa he had previously been curled up in. His eyes quickly dimmed in defeat as his felt his body being floated towards the common room door.  
  
Chocolate eyes smiled as he floated the platinum prince of Slytherin out of the common room. Blaise held his wand in such a fashion as to not alert others to the fact that he was levitating a supposedly unseen something along the corridor. Draco groaned at his fate.


	2. Dumbledores Office

Draco silently sulked, thinking up suitable ways of disembowelling his dark haired friend without being caught and charged with the use of underage cosmetic magic. So far the furthest he had got in his plan stretched to dragging Blaise down a dimly lit corridor and hexing him to pieces.  
  
The boy in question glanced at the silent Draco beside him, now free from his enchantments and fully mobile, though the only movement he had offered had been his middle finger.   
  
Blaise glanced around the room for the forth time in the space of two minutes, his curious eyes roaming over numerous mystical objects, including a smoking box, a tin pipe which seemed to be spitting bubbles, and an eerie looking medallion hanging from a candle stick, in the top right of a deep mahogany shelf.  
  
"That would be the Indescresible Pendant, capable of many, many dangers in our now perilous free world," lightly commented Professor Dumbledore, gracefully gesturing at the pendant, his eyes betraying his indifferent tone. Draco's head lifted up slightly with a thoughtful expression.  
  
Dumbledore gazed at the two students sitting infront of his desk, the youngest of the Malfoy family, with a stiff posture, and a bashful looking Blaise Zambini. He slowly turned and sat himself down onto his golden chair, placing his gnawed hands placidly on the wooden tabletop. Linking his long fingers he bowed his head slightly in thought before speaking.  
  
"Although, I do not believe pure curiosity drove you to bewitch a fellow student and, ahem, escort him to my office," coughed Dumbledore, a faint twinkle in his aged eyes.  
  
Blaise cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the now silent room and began, "Well, I intervened shall we say..."   
  
Dumbledore waved a hand for him to continue. Blaise glanced at Draco, who still sat as rigidly as he had from first arriving at the headmasters' office.   
  
"To help Draco," Draco snorted at this. Blaise shot him a look and continued, "You know of his families origins don't you Sir?"   
  
"Do you ask; do I know of our Mr Malfoy's veela blood?" Dumbledore sat back into his chair and faint amusement glittered in his eyes at the response of the younger Malfoy to his statement.  
  
The pale boy started, and pure fury brimmed in his barely cloaked eyes. He slowly turned his head to look at what he know considered to be his enemy, and glared.  
  
Blaise merely glanced back at the intense glare, smirked slighty and murmured, "You can tell him now if you would like."  
  
Silver eyes dropped in anger and the pale boy ground his teeth quietly enough to not be noticed. Blaise intended to peek Dumbledore's interest until Draco was forced to tell him. Clever plan of Blaise's, though not quite clever enough. He smiled politely at Blaise and felt a pleasant smugness overcome him at Blaise's puzzled reaction to his polite smile. Draco languidly stretched, picked himself off the cushioned chair and spoke, "Professor Dumbledore, this was nothing more than a childish joke at my expense, we shall leave, not bothering you with such trivial matters."   
  
He began to stride towards the door, reaching his agile fingers out to clasp the brass handle, pausing suddenly as he registered the words echoing in the circular room.  
  
"Why Mr Malfoy, how ever did you weaken the pull for such an allotted amount of time?" said Dumbledore, his face reflecting pure innocence.  
  
Oh sod.  
  
Slowly, Draco arched his fingers back from the door handle, his shoulders tensing; and spun round on an expensive suede loafer to face Dumbledore.  
  
"How did you...?" the pale prince trailed off and frowned in deep confusion, the battle to keep his frustation from being seen evident in his tense body language.  
  
Blaise watched with light curiosity at the rapid cluster of emotions flitting over the blonde's face, before settling on the blank canvas Draco often wore.  
  
"Ah, Mr Malfoy I have known for some time, but indeed, I did wish to wait for your eventual arrival at my office to discuss the topic in question, albeit, I did not expect this rather, forced, mode of transportation," intoned Dumbledore, a soft smile alighting his tired features.  
  
Draco resignedly twisted completely away from his exit and strode back over to his earlier occupied chair, knowing he had lost the battle, and that he would seek revenge on Blaise. He gracefully slumped into the chair, extending long legs, and sighed softly.  
  
"I have a version, if you like, of the 'Indescresible Pendant' that you spoke of earlier, but unlike your pendant, my, 'Vindescrisate Pendant' was created specially for a family member in the late 1950's for a jealous lover, wishing to control the veela pull. The lover in question had fallen into a rather, shall we say, unstable relationship with his veela counterpart. As a result of the veela pheromones, he became viciously covetous of others looking at his lover, thus he forced his lover to wear a specially created pendant to repel all other suitors petitioning for her attention."   
  
Dumbledore frowned in slight confusion, "But, Mr Malfoy, how would this pendant, I presume in your care, aid to your situation?" he queried.  
  
Draco looked up at Dumbledore, and glanced idly at Blaise. "The pendant in question, in my care, has been adapted as a result of my three quarter veela blood, thus the pendant no longer blocks others against veela pheromones, but blocks myself against my own pheromones," said Draco, straightening his shoulders.  
  
"But how exactly would that help? How strong is the pendant?"   
  
Blaise questioned, knowing that Draco would tell him now that he had no choice, as Dumbledore surely would want to know the answer to his question as well. He has questioned Draco on the power of the pendant previsouly, but the blonde had always sidetracked the question, this in turn, had only driven Blaise's curiosity onwards.  
  
Dumbledore watched this exchange quietly, noting how Blaise's voice dropped a semi tone in the question. Dumbledore frowned and side tracked Blaise's question by voicing another to Draco.  
  
"I trust you came into your heritage on your seventeenth birthday last fortnight?" he questioned.  
  
"Yes." Draco replied almost sullenly, hanging his head. "When I inherited the full weight of my veela responsibility, the pendant allowed me to ignore the pull towards the person my veela instinct chose as the person who completed me."  
  
"So this pendant has provided you with ignorant bliss for a fortnight?" nodded Dumbledore.  
  
"Yes," replied Draco quickly, looking as if he would rather be fed to flobber worms than continue to partake in the conversation.   
  
"Then, I must ask, why have you found yourself in my office?" said Dumbledore, hastily adding in the rest of his sentence at the look on the pale boy's face. "Whether that may have been a voluntary or not."  
  
Blaise spoke up then, "Because the pendant can only work for a while, before eventual becoming less and less effective, down to the point where Draco can no longer ignore what his veela instinct is attempting to compel him to."  
  
All eyes in the room strayed to the silvery eyes belonging to the person in the matter. Dumbledore pondered both boys for a quick minute, "Thus, the pendants control has already begun to slowly disintegrate?" he prompted, his gaze resting on Blaise.  
  
"Yes, and its having nasty effects," demanded a now adamant Blaise, "After Draco explained about the pendant to me, on the eve of his birthday, he mentioned the control weakening over time, and since then he has been such a ba-"  
  
"Now, now, Blaise," cut in Dumbledore, and averted his gaze to the silver haired boy once more, "I see, so, Mr Malfoy, what do you propose we do? Surely it would no just be far less complicated to listen to the pull?"  
  
"No," growled Draco, "It will never work, I can, I can, get a new pendant, try some sort of potion, Severus would help, yes, I can-"  
  
"Draco," commanded the headmaster, stopping the pale boys ramblings instantly, causing a faint flush to rise up his aristocratic features, "I feel that you can no longer ignore this responsibility that has been placed on your shoulders. Your veela instincts and attributes cannot be left untamed, and as a result, become a potential danger to others within this school. Something must be done. Now tell me, who is this potential veela counterpart you are fighting against so determinedly?  
  
Disbelief glowed in the depths of slate eyes, as Draco's previously proud shoulders slumped in a resigned fashion, his platinum head grazing his chest, before mumbling, "Ronald Weasley, Sir." 


	3. Gryffindor Games

Disclaimer on chapter two applies for all chapters.  
  
Chapter Three: Gryffindor Games  
  
The sound of a quill being slammed onto the heavy oak tabletop shattered the calm that had come to settle over the three Gryffindors.  
  
Harry scowled at the glittering black ink spots that had taken up residence on his potions essay and glanced up at his fiery friend.  
  
He quirked a bushy eyebrow in Ron's direction, catching his eye as he spoke, "So I take it your finished?"  
  
Ron looked down at Harry's now ink littered essay and flushed a deep crimson colour that rivalled that of his hair. Ducking his head in embarrassment he muttered, "Sorry mate."   
  
Hermione, her bushy hair that had calmed down into sleek curls as she approached seventeen, sat curled in a red sofa opposite Harry and Ron's table. Hidden from view behind a particularly dusty looking book. Not once lifting her eyes from her page she mumbled a cleansing spell distractedly, "Detersivo..." and waved her wand in the general direction of the table.   
  
Harry, upon hearing Hermione's quiet incantation looked across at her motionless figure, and hurriedly back down at his parchment. He and Ron watched in amazement as the ink spots began to shrink in size, slowly revealing the once clean parchment with the messy scrawl of a half finished essay, before disappearing completely.  
  
"Blimey, that's handy. Learn it over the summer Herm?" questioned Ron at Hermione's still stationary figure, lifting his auburn eyebrows.  
  
Warm brown eyes appeared above the aged book, considered both boys, before the book was lowered off guard, onto Hermione's lap. A lightly tanned face, pretty with the lack of adolescence could be seen, gracing delicate shoulders robed in a light beige.   
  
"I'm not going to be able to get any more work done before dinner now am I?" Hermione's pretty features were scrunched up in a disapproving scowl as the question was voiced.  
  
Forest green eyes danced with laughter, as Harry slowly picked himself up from his chair, shooting a fleeting look at Ron.  
  
Hazel eyes answered the look, as Ron also began to stretch and leave his chair.  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow and watched both boys slowly strolling towards her with suspicion, unconsciously shifting into a more controlled position on the sofa.  
  
Ron grinned suddenly, launching himself at Hermione, catching out of the corner of his eye, Harry doing the same.  
  
Brown eyes widened and a sharp gasp could be heard, before the female Gryffindor was smothered in arms and legs, frantically tracing her sides, tickling her mercifully.   
  
Hermione squirmed wildly, giggling and gasping for breath. "Okay!" she breathed, resorting to shouting when the tickling did not lessen, "Okay! No More!"  
  
Tanned and freckled hands left her side, leaving the light brown haired girl to giggle once more and suck in great armfuls of air.   
  
Both boys slumped down onto the plush cream sofa, sitting either side of Hermione. Harry leant his head onto her shoulder, looking up at her, affection shinning brightly in his green eyes. She seemed to sense his stare, and turned her head slightly to kiss him playfully on the nose.  
  
"Your not forgiven," whispered Hermione. Puppy dog eyes followed this remark, and Harry pouted. "That not fair, that I don't get forgiven and Ron does." Hermione smiled devilishly, her eyes glittering with mischief, "Who said anything about Ron being forgiven?"  
  
"Oh hey, that's not fair, I'm the trusty sidekick, the best friend, the-" A red cushion hit the red head square on the side of his face, cutting of his speech.  
  
Hermione grinned, leaped out of Harry's embrace, and off the sofa in one graceful motion. Gripping a second deep red cushion she swung it at the black haired boy, who barely managed to duck it successfully.  
  
Harry peered up from his crunched position to avoid narrowly missing a second blow at his head, "Arghh! Stop it!" he shouted, ducking a third swing.  
  
"Never fear! I'm here for you mate!" bellowed Ron, snatching up the other red cushion that had graced his features, swinging wildly in the general direction of the commotion surrounding the sofa.  
  
Harry who had begun to climb off the sofa, an arm blocking incoming blows from his giggling girlfriend, caught a tremendous clout to the left of his head. Rocking his balance he stumbled backwards, his legs bashing into the sofa, causing him to fall into its lavish clutches.  
  
"Ron!" he yelled, fending off blows in all directions. Ron stopped mid swipe, realisation dawning on his face as he spoke. "What? Oh shi-" his sentence was harshly interrupted as Hermione's pillow hit the back of his head.  
  
"You idiot Ron!" shouted Harry good-naturedly, as blows continued to rain down on them both.  
  
Hermione stood panting in front of the sofa, still gripping her ammo, and grinned as both boys warily opened their eyes and lowered their arms slightly upon feeling no more cushion blows.  
  
"So just what else did you learn over the summer, that you never told us about Herm?" joked Ron, from his sprawled position on the sofa.  
  
Hermione smiled fondly down at both boys, before plonking herself back between the two, the red cushion on her lap.  
  
"Well as you know we couldn't travel this summer so I took a self defence class at the new leisure centre near me, with my cousin, Alex," she explained.   
  
"A les- what?" frowned Ron, having never heard of any muggle fitness centres.  
  
"It's a place where you can swim, work out in the gym you know?" answered Harry, leaning over Hermione slightly to see Ron.  
  
"Gym?" replied Ron, even more baffled than he had been not two minutes ago.  
  
Both Harry and Hermione keeled over in laughter.  
  
"Humph, muggles…" muttered Ron, rolling his eyes. Folding his lanky arms he shook his head in mock annoyance.  
  
"Alex stayed for the last month of the summer, as my Aunt and Uncle went travelling in Africa. So we went to the centre every few days in the week, swam and did the course," continued Hermione patiently, once hers and Harry's giggles had ceased.  
  
"Oh, but why did you bother Hermione, your the best witch in the school! You don't need self defence, you know every hex invented!" exclaimed Ron, unfolding his arms rapidly and turning to face the curly haired girl.  
  
Hermione sighed, "Yes, but what happens if I cant get to my wand, and I'm being attacked?"  
  
"Ah, well yeah I suppose," mumbled the red head, "So did you do any secret courses over the summer that I wasn't told about?" he turned an accusing glare at Harry, who ducked his head sheepishly before answering in a rush.  
  
"Meandsirusdidamugglesewingclass."   
  
"A muggle sewing class? You?" Ron roared with laughter, his shoulders shaking violently. Hermione hid a smile and bit her lip.  
  
"Shut up!" mumbled Harry, his bush deepening. "I think its time for, uh, dinner, yeah, dinner." He shot up from the sofa and bolted for the portrait, yanking it open, the hinges creaking with the unnecessary force. His black head disappeared just as Ron shouted out.  
  
"You? Sewing! Mend my shirt!" guffawed Ron, still choking on peels of laughter, red in the face, clutching at his stomach.   
  
Hermione's grin spread the length of her face and she stood up, reaching for Ron's hand, still wrapped around his stomach. She dragged him off the sofa and towards the portrait hole.  
  
"Come on, my prefect in crime, I'll pick up my books from your dorm on the way back to mine after dinner." She gently pushed the lanky red head out, smiled and closed Ron's portrait door. 


	4. Forgotten Reminiscences

Disclaimer: I own only the plot and any originals.   
  
Chapter Four: Forgotten Reminiscences  
  
Dumbledore watched in calm determination as the dragon and the fox left the room. They had discussed several conclusions to the current problem, and several methods to their individual conclusions.   
  
Draco had refused each one.  
  
Lifting his head slightly and allowing his eyes to roam the room freely, Dumbledore pondered on the current problem and the possible solution to the veela twist once more.  
  
Blue eyes rested almost hesitantly upon his pensieve. He twisted a gnarled hand in resignation, for he never could quieten his gut feeling. The lavishly carved bowl hovered above the shelf it had recently perched on. He reined in each individual finger as he kept a close eye on the hovering bowl. Dust scattered as the pensieve drifted lazily towards his desk landing with a gentle thump on the oak surface.  
  
Dumbledore placed a hand onto the swirling surface. Slipping into memories almost forgotten, he felt the familiar pull, very much like the pull of a port key, as he fell into the expanding image of a clear summer's day.   
  
_A single sparrow soared through the crystal blue sky. Insects floated lazily on the pond surface as brief flashes of the squid could be seen beneath the murky surface.   
  
An owl hooted as it flew towards the window and perched on the window sill. Extending its leg and standing proud, the tawny owl offered the small paper wrapped package to Dumbledore.  
  
Smiling at the bird and reaching out to accept the package blue eyes glanced down at the castle grounds once more.  
  
Lucius Malfoy, proud, stubborn and sixteen with a nasty streak, regarded the summers day with scorn. His upper lip curled into a sneer at the phantom couples stretched out along the grass and play fighting in the cool water of the pond.  
  
Striding towards a Huttlepuff couple he purposely stood on their picnic basket, crushing the contents and smiling as the wicker basket split into several shards. Juice poured down the one remaining side onto their carefully laid out yellow blanket and soaked into the girls robes.  
  
A nasty grin spread along his thin lips as he continued his journey, oblivious to the shouts of protest of the Huttlepuff couple.  
  
The blonde sneered openly once more, his contempt for the other couples shining on his cruel features.  
  
Ash Zambini greeted Lucius as he strode up to his Slytherin housemates sitting on the ponds edge. Platinum head nodding in reply the blonde watched as slytherin sixth year girl cast the fourth spell on an innocent Ravenclaw, de-robing him of his blue swimwear.  
  
The Slytherin's sniggered as the Ravenclaw squawked in the sudden knowledge of his skinny dip and frantically fought off a group of his housemates attempting to pull him out of the pond to climb the cliff off to the side and dive into the lake.  
  
Frowning, Dumbledore picked up his wand from the desk and mumbled an enchantment, "Sopra sentasi," he caught the middle of a sentence as he refocused on the slytherin boys.  
  
"So Zambini, how are your father's associates coming along?" queried Lucius in a formal tone as he turned his back on the Ravenclaw's misfortune.  
  
The black haired boy lifted an eyebrow at the blonde and curtly replied, "They are all quite capable I assure you Lucius."  
  
Nodding at the other slytherin the blonde caught a flash of white reflecting in the sun to his left. Turning gracefully to pin point the odd reflection Lucius allowed a small genuine smile to reach his lips at the sight of Narcissa walking towards the group.  
  
Smiling as she reached the young Blonde she lent in to peck him on the cheek. Such rare show of emotion from the young Malfoy exploded onto his face as she rested her cheek on his.  
  
Ash watched the pair with distrust and frowned in thought. Sitting up suddenly a wave shook his body and his eyes widened in surprise as he spun his black head up to the tower window to lock eyes with Dumbledore.  
  
_Jolting out of the memory as hurried footsteps and loud cursing sounded up the spiral staircase leading to his present time office, a loud banging began resounded on the heavy oak door.  
  
Dumbledore fixed his eyes upon the door, silently marvelling at the rate of his visitors upon that day. It had passed a mere half an hour that only he had occupied his office.  
  
Sliding the pensieve to the side of his desk he reached for his wand and twirled the surface, watching as the memory broke up and the liquid reverted back to the familiar silver swirls.  
  
The oak door slammed open with a brutal force as the dark haired man strode through into the room, his previous patience and knocking gone. His faces alight with anger he threw himself into one of the remaining plush coaches.   
  
"Good Evening Severus," spoke Dumbledore placidly, his features creasing into a smile.  
  
Glaring at the old wizard Snape scowled and crossed his arms. "She's done it again."  
  
Feigning complete ignorance of exactly whom the 'she' he was referring to happened to be, Dumbledore answered, "She, Severus?"  
  
Scowling further Snape ground out, "Please refrain from playing indifferent Albus, you know exactly who I mean. The head of that inbred Weasley clan."  
  
Dumbledore frowned at the inbred comment. "Severus, please do hold your professionality in mind and refrain from insulting the parents of our students. Now, what exactly has Mrs Weasley done again?"  
  
If possible, the scowl on Snape's face deepened as he replied, "She sent me a howler Dumbledore! A howler! To a Professor!"  
  
Biting back a grin at what might have been in that howler considering the well known hostility between Ron Weasley and Snape that surely had reached Mrs Weasleys ears over the years, Dumbledore made a hum in acknowledgement of Snape's comment.  
  
The dark haired man merely growled at the complete indifference from the Headmaster. As elegantly as an adult could, he huffed quietly.  
  
Dumbledore smiled inwardly. It seemed he would have to resolve this particular friction between parent and Professor. If he did not he knew Severus would only become more vindictive towards the entire Weasley clan because of his frustration at Mrs Wealsey.  
  
"What do you propose we do Severus to resolve this problem?"  
  
Snape muttered a few choice obscenities under his breath featuring dipping the entire Weasley clan in ice and dying their 'hideous' hair a nice coal black.  
  
Dumbledore smiled and coughed politely.  
  
Snapes head shot up and embarrassment flashed there for a brief second before his indifferent mask was in place. "I have no conclusions to this problem." The last word was ground out between clenched teeth.  
  
"Well, it seems yourself and Mrs Weasley should have a nice chat I think."  
  
More than slight horror jumped onto Snapes face at the prospect of a chat with the fiery head Weasley. Snape may have been a double agent for many years and endured many the pain of the dark Lord, but facing an angry Weasley was on another level of horrors. He paled. "I think we can resolve the problem another way, perhaps you could talk to the woman."  
  
Dumbledore chuckled at Snapes obvious displeasure at this idea. "Maybe you should owl her Severus?"  
  
"I think it would be best if you-"  
  
Dumbledore lifted a hand silencing Snape before he had finished his sentance. "Dinner is ready I do believe." Smiled the headmaster, very aware of what he had just begun, and how to solve the other problem wondering about the school grounds. 


	5. Pheromones and Punches

"You can either ignore me for a very long time or thank my gorgeous self."  
  
Draco turned towards Blaise and raised his wand. "Can I have choice words along the lines of Avada and Kedavra?"  
  
Blaise paled slightly.  
  
"Oh Draco leave him be, he may not have done the right thing, but either way, its damn funny," commented Pansy, who was curled up to the left of Draco in a large black armchair reading a book.  
  
"Traitor," Draco muttered back as he watched her bite down on a giggle. He laid his wand down next to him.  
  
"Well, that I may be in trivial matters, but dinner is served I do believe." Pansy closed her book over a thumb and uncurled long legs from under her to stand up. She glanced at Blaise, "You coming or what?"  
  
Blaise nodded and watched as Pansy went off to her dorm to put away her book. Pansy placed a bookmark inbetween the pages, snapped the covers shut and threw the book onto her bed. What she did not notice was a small piece of crumpled paper that fluttered from the book as it flew before hitting her comforter, closed. The paper floated onto the floor and remained unseen by the Slytherin as she spun on her heel to make her way back to the common room. That spin of her heel created a small draught which pushed the piece of paper just out of sight under her bed.  
  
Back in the common room, rather late for dinner, Pansy nodded at Blaise and they left, leaving a sullen Draco sitting on the sofa.  
  
The rest of the Slytherin house has disappeared for dinner now that Pansy and Blaise had gone off in the hopes of the last bits of dinner Draco was the only one in the Slytherin quarters. He reached for his wand and cast a dimming charm on the entire room, extinguishing the fire and all of the open lamps. He didn't really need the room to be darkened to practice his Veela attributes but it felt safer that way, something he had grown up with, crouching in his lavish bedroom at Malfoy Manor, in the dark as a little boy.   
  
Closing platinum eyes he listened. His hearing range had been building as his Veela powers grew stronger under the diminishing hold of the Vindescrisate Pendant. His range now carried him all the way to the Great Hall with no difficulty. Draco caught the tail end of his conversation and became content to listen to his childish bickering.  
  
_"Really Ron, you didn't need to tease him that much!"  
  
A throaty chuckle followed. "Oh, but I did! Come on Hermione, sewing! That's priceless!"  
  
A dissaproving cough sounded out. "It's a good thing, he's broadening his horizons, unlike some I can name."  
  
"Hey! I'm broadening my horizons, just vertically, not horizontally in the way of sewing." A full throated laugh followed.   
_  
Draco smiled as he heard the large thwap and the inevitable,_ "Ow!" _  
  
He listened on, not particularly caring that he was at a loss when it came to the topic of the conversation.  
  
_A girlish laughter tinkled, Hermione's, and the large creak of the Great Hall's doors could be heard. "Come on you, we've almost missed dinner."  
  
A snort near the pair rung out, "Yes, because the Weasel doesn't get fed at home, they haven't the fundings to feed the entire family have they?"  
  
The doors of the Great Hall shut once more.  
_  
What Draco recognised as Blaise's deep laugh followed the comment. Blaise and Pansy had almost reached the Great Hall then.  
  
_"Oh piss off Pansy." Ron's voice.  
  
"Oh! Who's in a touchy mood this evening? Has the hunger finally got to you? I do give contributions to the worst of cases you know." A rattling in robes followed.  
  
A low growl sounded out as Pansy produced two knuts. A step sounded out. "What? Going to hit me Weasel?  
  
A scuffle rung out, followed by the familar sound of the cracking noise right before a broken nose.   
_  
Shock registered on Draco's face, Weasley couldn't have hit Pansy, could he?  
  
_"You-mph bastard, you've broken-mph my fucking nose-mph!"  
  
"I'll get you for that Weasel," _Pansy's voice, and she was talking as normal, so it had to have been Blaise who had been the target of the broken nose.  
  
Draco leapt from his seat as fast as his legs could carry him and darted out of the common room. He listened on as he sped down the corridors of the castle, his Veela pheromones screaming at him to protect Ron.  
  
_The sound of fabric rustling sounded out in his ears. "Impe-"  
  
_Draco burst onto the corridor leading to the Great Hall and took in the sight. Blaise was crouching down next to the door of the Great Hall clutching his face and Ron was shaking his fist. Pansy was pulling her wand from her robes, a particularly nast look upon her face. Hermione missed all this as steps rang out behind the commotion and she spun around to locate the owner of the footfalls. Draco thought at lightning speed and stunned Ron, before Pansy could cast an unknown forgiveable, hurt Ron and get herself expelled at the same time.  
  
"Stupefy!" He shouted and flicked his wand at Ron, a brief flicker of shock registering on his face as he froze under the spell. Pansy darted a confused look at Draco as Ron froze, her target now doing the unexpected she lowered her wand slightly in puzzlement at the blonde's actions.   
  
"Expelliarmus," shouted a womans voice laced with anger and authority.  
  
Draco's wand shot from nimble fingers just as Ron's stunned body dropped to the floor, followed by Pansy's wand. Draco looked over Hermione's shoulder to see Professor McGonagall. A furious look was scratched onto her taut features as she caught the two wands and shouted, "Mr. Malfoy! How dare you cast spells on other students! Detention for the next fortnight Mr. Malfoy."  
  
"Professor, Weasley hit Blaise before Draco stunned him, the little fu-"  
  
"Yes I had witnessed that Ms. Parkinson, and I also witnessed your wand pointed at Mr. Weasley. All three of you shall face detention for the next fortnight."  
  
"But Professor, Ron didn't-"  
  
"Ms. Granger, it would be in your best interests to not speak." Hermione's mouth snapped shut at this.  
  
"Fifty house points from each student. Ms. Granger, take Mr. Weasley to the infirmary. Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Parkinson, follow me, and Mr. Zambini I take it you are able to make your own way to the infirmary?"  
  
"Yes-mph." Blaise nodded, still clutching his nose which by this time had swollend to quite a remarkable size.  
  
With that, she spun on her heel, in the opposite direction of the Great Hall and the direction in which she had been coming to. "Come along Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Parkinson."  
  
Pansy glared at Hermione who was busy levitating a stunned Ron up from the floor. Hermione glared back and turned away in the direction of the infirmary, carefully floating Ron down the corridor. Blaise followed the pair.  
  
"Ms. Parkinson." Pansy snapped her head away from the three and followed McGonagall along with Draco. Draco began talking in a hushed voice to Pansy.  
  
"What were you doing you idiot? You could have hurt him!"  
  
"That **was** the intention," snarled Pansy.  
  
Draco ground his teeth and replied, "Pansy you twitterbrain, you know about the situation!"  
  
She snorted in reply, "Yes, and **you** know I don't agree with the situation."  
  
"And you think I do?" His voice began to rise in anger.  
  
"He hit Blaise! He's a bast-"  
  
Draco closed a hand over her mouth, cutting her sentance off. In a dangerously quiet voice he whispered, "I told you to leave him be. I warned you at the start of all this Pansy."  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, un-hand Ms. Parkinson!" McGonagall had turned round to face the pair as she had reached her office and caught sight of Draco shushing Pansy rather forcefully.  
  
"Oh for the love of-"  
  
"Mr. Malfoy! You have just granted yourself a complete month in detention."   
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine. If you think for one moment I will be-ow!"  
  
Smirking, Pansy wiped her mouth, "And I warned you Draco."  
  
"Yeah well you didn't have to bite me," he muttered.  
  
McGonagall turned the handle of her office door and motioned them in. 


	6. Madam Pomfrey

* * *

"Mr. Weasley! Ms. Granger!" The shocked squawk carried through the long hospital ward as Hermione gently lowered the Ron, who was groggily coming around, onto starch sheets of a hospital bed. "What an Earth have you gotten yourself into-"  
  
As quick as his groggy body would allow, Ron rolled onto his stomach and threw his head over the side of the bed. A red sheet of hair followed Ron's jerky movement as he emptied his stomach straight onto the spotless floor.  
  
"-now?" finished Madam Pomfrey, automatically reaching for her wand that was tucked in her white belt. She drew her wand, whispered a few words and waved it over the vomit. Immeditately the pool of digested liquids dried up into nothing, as if it had never been there, leaving a completely spotless floor once more.  
  
Dragging a hand across his mouth, the red head gave a low moan and rolled back into the middle of the bed.   
  
Shooting him a dissapproving, but worried glance, the fierce nurse waved her wand airwards once more, and a bowl of water with a cloth appeared next to Ron's bed. "Hermione, clean him up while I fetch a calming potion for his head-" her brow wrinkled and she continued as an after thought, "-and his stomach."  
  
Hermione reached into the bowl as the rounded nurse walked back down the long ward towards a potions cabinet. Hermione drew out the cloth and squeezed the excess water from it's depths. "Now I wonder why he only stunned you,-" she mopped his brow as she thought aloud, "-he stunned you, but, effectively, he was stopping, Pansy...? Why?" Hermione frowned, rinsed the cloth and began to wipe Ron's mouth.  
  
The doors to the Infirmary shot open with such a force they hit the walls on either side and closed again. Hermione shot around at the noise, her own wand appearing in her hand in a instictive motion. She trained what was essentially a weapon in her hands, her wand, on the doors, which were re-opening at a more cautious pace. A black head of hair peered around the doors followed by a slim body. The owner of the black hair rasied his eyebrows in mild alarm at the wand pointed at him. "Hermione?"  
  
Letting out a sigh she hadn't realised she had held, Hermione lowered her wand and gave a small smile to the raven haired boy. "Harry."  
  
Ron had watched this out of one open eye and opened his mouth to greet Harry. A gurgle of fresh vomit met his lips and for the second time his stomach wrenched, only this time he didn't make it to the side of the bed.   
  
"Gross! Ronald Weasley!" As much as Hermione loved her best friend, being vomited on went beyond the friendship line when you wore new robes.  
  
Ron merely clutched his stomach as he thought a fresh wave of sickness. Hermione frowned in alarm as Ron was sick again. A stunning charm did not have this effect usually. Something was wrong.  
  
Harry strode over to hospital bed with a matching frown to Hermione's. He turned towards her and spoke, "I was told he had only been stunned, why is he-"  
  
"Mr. Potter, please move from under my feet," Madam Pomfrey said, clutching a potions vial of orange swirls as she reached the edge of Ron's bed. She waved her wand over Ron, and a golden light bathed his body. Twitching her nose in concentration she twirled her wand and the light grew denser over Ron's chest. "Well, thats unusual."  
  
"What is?" Voiced the trio as one.  
  
"Mr. Weasley was stupefied, and one expects grogginess and no stabilty when they first come around from the spell, but not sickness quite as violent as Mr. Weasley has. Unless-" she snapped her mouth shut and cut off her own sentance.  
  
On the nurse's last word Ron punctuated the spoken thoughts as he bent over and emptied his stomach for the third time. The entire situation was very reminescent of Ron's third year and the slug incident. Now he was four years older and his tall form no longer appeared gangly, but in proportion to the adult that he had become.   
  
"Oh," he managed, feeling too rough to wonder at what the nurse hadn't said.  
  
"Well, Mr. Weasley, it appears your body dislikes being stunned. This does happen at times when the body was perhaps suseseptable to a slow brewing cold, the stupefy spell tends to enchance this sickness to be, and thrusts it onto the unwary individual in one go. Not very pleasent as you have probably realised. I can give you this tonic, however, your body most run its natural course against what would have been a cold in a few weeks, and you will be vomiting again tonight."  
  
Madam Pomfrey handed the orange vial to Ron which he took in an unsteady hand. He swung the vial back and opened his mouth. Spluttering as the liquid ran down the back of his throat, Ron almost threw up for the fourth time there and then. Hermione reached out to rub his back in soothing circles as he handed the vial back to the nurse.   
  
"He must rest tonight. Hermione, Potter, along with the both of you now." Madame Pomfrey shooed them with her hands and Hermione retracted her hand from Ron's back. As soon as she had done so Ron fell back into the cushions on the bed.  
  
"Ron, mate, we'll come back tomorrow as soon as possible," Harry said, and winked as soon as Madame Pomfrey turned her back on the group to put the potion vial in a bowl. Harry mimicked putting a cape on and changed his movement to a rather eccentric hug for Hermione as the nurse turned back half way through his mimick. Hermione squeaked at the sudden drop of an arm around her shoulders, having been lost in thought, and the nurse gave them a funny look as Harry steered Hermione from the ward.  
  
Madam Pomfrey shook her head slightly and turned to face Ron. She waved her wand and pointed it at where the red-head was lain. Distant panic shone in Ron's eyes at the wand being pointed at him until a few whispered words echoed in the large room and he was lying on clean sheets again.  
  
"Mr. Weasley, rest now." With that the nurse drew the hanging curtains to a close around his single bed.  
  
Grumbling quietly, Ron rolled onto his side. He was grateful his stomach no longer persued the urge to leap from his body and tired from the potion he had taken. Ten minutes of silent thoughts later, his eyelids drooped closed and he reached a hand to push red strands from his eyes. The potion took hold completely and he dropped into a deep slumber, his body not resisting in the slightest.  
  
A quiet click and hushed voices sounded out in the deathly quiet hospital ward. Ron did not hear any of this as two figures crouched under a shimmering cloak closed the ward doors quietly and made their way over to his bed. The curtains swept aside as if they had a will of thier own with a soft whoosh. A fairly large imprint sunk into the mattress of the bed by his feet and a raven head appeared, along with a brunette mop.  
  
Harry pulled the invisibility cloak till it rested on his and Hermione's shoulders, thier heads appearing to float in mid air. "He's asleep," he said.  
  
"I did tell you he would be."  
  
"Mm."  
  
"He'll be alright in the morning, you of all people should have spent enough time in here to know that," Hermione smiled through her sentance and leant back onto Harry as they both watched Ron's sleeping form. "Come on, we'll come back first thing."  
  
Harry nodded at his girlfriend and pulled the cloak back up to cover their heads. He felt slightly guilty at having not been their when the Slytherin cronies had launched themsleves on Ron and Hermione. Hermione reached for his hand and squeezed it gently, as if reading his thoughts. Harry smiled at her and they stood up from Ron's bed, the mattress groaning as they did so. Quietly they made their way past the curtains and out of the Infirmary.

* * *

A/N: Thank you very much to all my reviewers! You make me smile so! The next chapter should be up in a few days!  
  
Disclaimer on previous chapters applies to all chapters.  
  
AmbrosiaBunny x 


	7. The Essence of a Malfoy

A silvery breeze played on the platinum strands darting about a clearly defined cheekbone. Draco dropped his head to lean against the cool surface of the open window pane, his hand lazily dangling in the cold night air. Sighing softly he contemplated life.

He now had a miserable months worth of detention at the bats disposable. Pansy had a mere two weeks as well as Ron. _He_ had _helped_ the situation, and _he _hadgot a _month!_

Living in the life of Draco Malfoy seemed amazingly out of proportion to the life of others. However, being a Malfoy, Draco accepted this with his arrogant chin pointed upwards.

His veela instincts may have been sated at the decrease of permanent harm to Ron, but his Malfoy instincts certainly were not sated at the result of a months worth of detention. Draco ground his teeth together as he attempted to ignore his inner Veela.

Being a male Veela meant he only had a total of three months, instead of six for female Veelas, to persuade his Veela chosen partner to see the beauty within, truly accept him, and be willing for a life relationship between the two. After the three months came to a close and his Veela chosen partner had turned away from him then life would be meaningless. Slowly his inner magic, both Veela and Wizard, would dwindle to the equivalent of a Muggle if he did not mate with Ron before three months had passed. If this were to happen, he would surely be disowned. A low pained moan escaped his lips. He could cope with no family fortune, but no magic and _especially_ no Ron would be unbearable.

Shooting back from the window in shock at the thought Draco shook his head to clear the sappy motives. He did _not _want Ron, no, the _Weasley. _It was just wrong, all wrong. A Malfoy and a Weasley were never meant to be. Fire and ice were equal counterparts, they could never mould as one. He and Ron could never mould as one.

Dropping his head into his hands Draco ran his fingers along his forehead and another low moan escaped his lips. Life had finally reached the inevitable cross-roads he had believed had been escaped. With the diminishment of the Dark Lord and the death eaters imprisoned, it left him free to live his life as he pleased not bowing to the whims of Voldemort.

Destiny had other plans it seemed. He was to bow down to a Weasley. A Weasley who had un-beknown to him, captured Draco's mind and soul, and soon to be, his heart.

He had to plan, had to fix this-this, _problem._ Lifting his head from his hands Draco stood up and made his way to his desk. A prefect did have its bonuses, one being the benefit of his own room. Sliding into the wooden chair he reached for a piece of parchment and a quill. Dipping the quill into coal black ink he poised the quill above the parchment to write. Biting his lip he paused.

Where was the solution to this? Was there a solution, minus the inevitable? The inevitable that fate was pushing him into this new path that he had been steered onto…? If fate existed, surely he and Ron would just live happily ever after, life's choices having been made correctly to lead them to endless bliss, but if that was the case, where is the meaning in making choices for oneself?

Dropping the quill he sat back in the chair and closed his eyes. The golden trio knew nothing of the situation, of course. Dumbledore, Blaise and Pansy did however. Dumbledore being the old fashioned fool he was had been of no help, and both Blaise and Pansy refused to acknowledge the situation fully.

Severus knew of his Veela blood, practically being a surrogate father to Draco, but not of his Veela choice of partner, yet.

His father would have many dark spells which may be of help, but all the knowledge of such arts had been lost at the Ministry's hands with the fall of the Dark Lord, as well as his father himself.

The elder Malfoy had sold his soul to the dark empire before Draco's birth, and had poured his life into his 'work' until it had eventually killed him. A miserable summer had followed that. Lucius Malfoy had never been a model father, but never the less he was Draco's blood and a true Malfoy. The Malfoy Manor deeds had been passed onto Draco at the tender age of sixteen, along with the responsibility of adulthood. It was then that he had begun talking to-

A soft tapping at the window stopped him mid-thought and stirred him from his inner ramblings.

Glancing over his shoulder to locate the noise, he spotted a tawny owl perched on the open window ledge. Frowning, Draco stood up from his chair and strode over to the bird, which by now had hooted at him and struck out a leg.

It was a Hogwarts bird, but not an official letter, as no Hogwarts crest had been indented into the parchment. His frown deepened as he slid the parchment from the owls' leg and watched as it spread large wings and took off into the night.

_Malfoy,_

_I caught sight of him, and he seems alright, although, he did stink of vomit. He was sleeping when I last saw him._

Nodding at the parchment Draco reached for his wand on the bedside table and held the parchment away from him. "Incendo," he muttered, dropping the parchment as it caught alight and crumbled into ashes on the floor.

A second tapping echoed in his small room. Spinning around he was met with another owl. The owl shook its feathers out and flew straight into the room, not bothering to wait for an invite, and perched itself on Draco's bed.

Draco raised his silver brows. "Rude little bugger."

The owl merely hooted back at Draco and extended its leg in a hurried manner. Raising his brows at the owl Draco took his time untying the roll of parchment until the owl bit him in its haste. Gods, had he not had enough _things_ bite him today? He snatched the untied roll from the owl in annoyance and leant back as it flapped its wings at him and flew out the window.

Unfolding the letter, a neat scrawl started writing across the cream sheet. Draco waited for a moment until the scrawl had stopped and he held a complete letter in his fingers. He began to read.

_Malfoy,_

_He's okay, no permanent damage done, just a little pissed at you, as am I. We have to meet at the usual spot on the sixth day, to re-plan._

_Don't forget._

At the last word the scrawl began to disappear, leaving a plain piece of parchment in his grip. Today was a Tuesday, being the third day of the week if one counted Sunday as the first, making the sixth day a Friday. He had three days, and he had this extra help he had forgotten about in his panic.

Relaxing slightly, Draco folded the parchment over and placed it on his desk. He did frown at what he had thought would have been a metre lengths worth of a rant at his stupidity, however, instead of the brief scribble he actually got. Draco rolled his eyes as the next thought struck him; that rant was obviously going to be arriving in person.

Minus the up-coming rant, being a Malfoy did have its advantages over leading the lives of others though. Draco smirked into his room; he had a permanent eye on his Weasley through two contacts on either side.

His smirk grew.


	8. The Art of Potions and Emotions

Excited chatter rang out in Hogwarts many corridors as students of all ages swarmed out of the Great Hall to the first class of the day. Beams of sunlight danced in from extravagant windows, forecasting for a beautiful day.  
  
Despite the cheery weather Ron sulked silently as he, Harry and Hermione made their way to their first class; Potions. He had missed breakfast completely, and thrown up what little Madam Pomfrey had managed to get into his stomach a few minutes ago in the boys bathroom. Consequently, he had begun to bemoan his lack of food and had fallen into a bad mood.  
  
"Oh Ron, lunch isn't that far away, and when you are unwell normally you tend to eat less anyway," Hermione waved over her shoulder at him in a preoccupied manner, and carried on shifting around in her oversized bag.  
  
Harry snorted at her. "Ron always eats more than the normal person, whether he's ill or not."  
  
"Shut up Harry," Ron punched the raven haired boy on the arm and continued to sulk.  
  
Harry laughed at the red head and rubbed his arm, "You nasty git you, inflicting violence on us innocents."  
  
Ron couldn't help but laugh and pushed Harry around a corridor, "Move, oh innocent one."  
  
Laughing Harry stumbled past the corner and came to an abrupt halt as he walked straight into Hermione. Harry tumbled over the brunette girl perched on the floor, with half the interior of her bag scattered around her feet. Landing with a soft thump he groaned.  
  
"Ouch."  
  
"Oh, Harry! Sorry, I can't find my potions essay, dammit, I just can't seem to find it," Hermione gave her boyfriend a five second glance and went back to the scatterings of her bag.  
  
Ron chuckled at the look of mock outrage on Harry's face at Hermione's five second glance of concern and stretched a hand to help the boy up.  
  
"Not just me attacking the innocents today," he said.  
  
"Oh, ha ha, hitting the floor face first, is what I relish doing before potions, just so you know," replied Harry, dusting himself down.  
  
Ron snorted.  
  
"Harry, I need to go back and get my essay! It's not here! It must be in the common room, or, oh-" Hermione stopped. Wringing her hands, a red flush rose up her face and she began hurridley cramming things back into her bag, "-just don't lose things, where the hell-"  
  
"Maybe it's up your over-sized arse Granger?" drawled a sarcastic voice.  
  
All three of the trio stiffened reflectively and Ron turned to the voice. A voice he would recognise in the largest crowd, the deepest water, the loudest wind.  
  
There, Draco Malfoy stood with his chin tossed upwards and a sneer etched onto his aristocratic features. His school robes parted slightly to show expensive looking grey trousers and black loafers.  
  
"What did you say Malfoy? Not have enough fun yesterday?" Ron seethed, his bad mood developing into a fury in under a minute at the forceful reminder, sneering at him, of yesterday's events and his entire night of vomiting. His face turned an alarming shade of red and his fists clenched and unclenched in intervals at his sides.  
  
Hermione bustled infront of the red head, clutching her now full bag, with a worried look upon her face, and said anxiously, "Ron, please, just leave it, he's an insufferable pratt that we are rid of forever in a few months, just forget it."  
  
Breathing in rough gasps Ron gritted his teeth, nodded at Hermione and turned away from the blonde. Harry shot the Slytherin a dirty look and he too turned away from him.  
  
Draco sighed, he loved getting reactions from the fiery red head, but it seemed Ron had refused him this. He had wanted to wind the red head up to the point of throwing himself at him. Draco smirked at the thought of Ron's fiery body drapped over him. Well fine then, if Weasel had denied him now, he would get him to fire up in potions.  
  
Harry glanced back for the second time to see the smirk dangling on the blondes face. Harry frowned at Malfoy's expression for a split second and pulled Hermione into his side. As soon as Harry had hugged Hermione, Ron spotted his chance.  
  
He whirled back around and swung an anger powered fist, missing the blonde's face by inches as Draco leaned his head back and away at the last split second, a delighted smile crossing his face as he did so.  
  
Draco wiped his face clear as a snarling voice rang out in the corridor.  
  
"Mr. Weasley."  
  
Snape.  
  
Draco gritted his teeth. Silently he raged. _Yes, he did love Severus more than he had loved anybody, but why, for the love of God, why was he appearing now? Why? Every bloody time I almost get the Weasel to throw himself at me somebody always bloody interrupts?! Destiny is a fucker,_ he decided. He had a most uncomfortable bulge in his pants over the fiery Gryffindor and was supremely grateful for the support of his expensive trousers that hid the bulge.  
  
Ron, however, froze in his rampage, looked up towards the voice and scowled even deeper in his anger.  
  
"I do believe you are late for my class, are you not?" drawled Snape, smirking sideways at Draco.  
  
"Yes, Sir." Ron spat, bearly containing his contempt for the man.  
  
"And why are you late for my class Mr. Weasley?" questionned Snape, a particularly vicious glint in his eye.  
  
"Because-" began Ron, but Snape cut him off with a menacing look.  
  
"It is rude to interrupt a person who is speaking. Did your misfits of parents not instruct you in that?" said Snape.  
  
Ron visibly bristled. Hermione layed a hand on his arm and Harry moved closer to the red head.  
  
"No, well, I suppose not. However, you are late, Mr. Weasley, as far as I can see from here, because you have, once again I might add, started a brawl with Mr. Malfoy here. Fifty points from Gryffindor," sneered Snape.  
  
"But he-" cried Ron in outrage and pointed at Draco, his hand shaking in anger.  
  
"No buts Mr. Weasley. You will serve two weeks detention beginning tonight at seven. Until then, I do have a class I would like to conduct."  
  
With a billowing of robes Snape turned on his heel and headed back into a dungeon door. Draco followed him, still silently ragin himslef at the injustice of life.  
  
As soon as Draco disappeared from view Ron exploded, "That little fucker! Another fucking two weeks! I have a bloody month now because of that little shit, the fucking-"  
  
"Mr. Weasley, you will now serve three weeks of detention, for foul language, and a month if you dawdle any longer outside my door," said Snape from within the Potion's room. Giggles followed.  
  
"Not fucking happy," muttered Ron.  
  
Hermione pulled him towards the dungeons door and Harry followed the pair. This was going to be a bad day.  
  
The Potions room fell silent as Ron, Harry and Hermione made their way to the back of the back of the room. The trio sat and began pulling out textbooks. Ron slammed his on the desk with such ferocity that a few other students jumped. Hermione shot him a small disapproving look.  
  
"Mr. Weasley, for that, you will be cleaning each and every desk after this lesson has come to an end and then we shall discuss your detention duties-" Snape looked down his long nose at Ron and waved his wand at the board, "-however, Instructions for today's potion are on the board, begin."  
  
Draco who was seated a good few rows from the trio, dropped his head to look at the desk and flashed his trademark smirk at the wooden surface. He would 'forget' his quill and have to return to the potions room after the lesson, when Ron was cleaning the tables. Oh yes, that's what he would do.  
  
Hermione's hand shot up a moment later. Snape raised a sardonic brow at her, "Yes ...?"  
  
"Sir, you haven't explained what we are making!" exclaimed Hermione.  
  
"Ms. Granger, if you had been on time you would know exactly what we are making, as I have already gone over the potion once. The instructions are on the board, " said Snape as if talking to an incompetent child.  
  
Hermione slowly flushed a deep scarlet and nodded. Snape rolled his eyes and walked to sit behind his desk. As chatter began to fill his class, he added, "In silence."  
  
The chatter died down and the only sound in the dungeon was that of chairs scraping along the stone floor and students collecting potions ingredients and caludrons.  
  
An hour of silence later Snape stood from his desk and lazily waved his wand. Neville squeaked as his potion vanished from his cauldron, along with the potion attempts from Seamus, Ron, Lavender and Harry.  
  
"The students who managed to successfully brew today's potion will collect a sample and leave it on my desk. Those who have not, will write me and a foot long explaination of how and where they went wrong. The entire class will write a foot on the properties of the potion which I expect from every individual in this class, including those who are already writing me an essay. Last lessons homework shall be handed in next week as it is joint with this homework," said Snape, swooping down on the unfortunate Dean.  
  
The class sighed collectively.  
  
Students began bustling from the room as Snape grilled Dean. The Slytherins who still had joint potions with the Gryffindors nodded at Snape as they left.  
  
Hermione began collecting a sample of her potion as Ron and Harry returned their now empty cauldrons to the supply cupboard. Emerging from the cupboard as Hemione was carrying her cauldron in Harry and Ron went to collect their bags.  
  
Ron had been muttering obscenities under his breath for the majority of the lesson and Harry chuckled as he pulled his bag onto his back at Ron's more outrageous imaginings involving Snape, Malfoy and potion ladles.  
  
"Mr. Weasley, do get started on the tables, Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger you may leave," said Snape, a smirk playing on his face as Ron sighed and began work. He hated all Slytherins. All of them. He would make the ferret's life hell for this. Oh yes he would. Ron's face screwed up into a small smirk and began scrubbing at the table.  
  
The door clicked after Harry and Hermione.  
  
Snape stood up from his desk and gathered the scattered vials of potion on his desk. His robes billowing around him, he disappeared into the supply cupboard.  
  
The door clicked for a second time and Ron started slightly. He spun around and came face to face with a sneering blonde. Glowering at Draco, Ron did not say a word and turned back to his desk, scrubbing even harder, as his anger from an hour ago began to bubble again. He would make the ferret's life hell, but not right now, right under Snape's hideous nose.  
  
The Slytherin merely licked his lips at the sight of Ron leaning over the desk and scrubbing furiously. It was quite an erotic sight for the Veela and for the second time that day, he was immensely gratefuly for his tight trousers as Snape strode out from the supply room.  
  
"Mr. Mafloy?"  
  
Not quite taking his eyes off the rocking form of the Gryffindor Draco mumbled at the Potions Professor, "Hmm?"  
  
All coherent thought flew from Draco's mind, and with that, his reason for coming back to the potions room. All Draco's attention was slowly being focused on Ron. His lips parted.  
  
Raising his brow at the sight Snape opened and closed his mouth, at a loss for words for a moment.  
  
Draco appeared entranced by Ron moving up and down in the process of scrubbing the table and was licking his lips rather enthusiastically.  
  
Ron did not see any of this as he had turned away from the blonde and merely continued to scrub, not realising the effect he was having on either of the other men in the room.  
  
Draco was flushed all the way down into his school robes and was breathing very hard by this time.  
  
Snape merely looked revolted. Then a light errupted behind his eyes, and, if possible, he looked even more disgusted then he had done a second ago.  
  
Draco, by this time, had a mere string of control left of his Veela instincts to jump Ron at the moment and his skin began to glow softly.  
  
Indecision flickered on Snape's face, and before he had even realised his mind was made up, he had reached out to grab Draco's shoulder. At Snape's touch Draco's head shot away from Ron and he gulped for breath like a fish out of water. Draco looked completely bewildered and was having difficulty breathing.  
  
"Calm down, get a hold of it, just breathe," whispered Snape calmly, placing his other hand on Draco's other shoulder and steering him into the supply room.  
  
Ron continued to scrub, his anger making him oblivious to the room and its occupants around him.  
  
Draco half collapsed against a shelf laden with jars of all sorts of things that normally would have revolted him. He clutched for the pendant under his shirt and drew it out. The Vindescrisate Pendant was no longer glowing as it had done for the past two weeks, but was now a dull silver.  
  
Snapes eyes widened minutely and he scowled down at the blonde who he considered his son in everything other than blood. "You **do** know your chosen mate, don't you?"  
  
Draco looked up at Snape and nodded.  
  
"Why didn't you inform me you dolt?"  
  
Draco gave a small smile at the insult, knowing this was Snape's way of expressing his worry. "You hate him," he replied.  
  
Snape rolled his eyes, and avoided the statement by reaching out for the pendant. "I presume this just collapsed?"  
  
"Seems so, yes," said Draco, and blinked a few times.  
  
Snape spun around and slid his fingers along a few vials before stopping. He pulled out a vial of a bright red solution and turned back to Draco, "Drink this," he instructed and held the vial out to the blonde.  
  
Draco took the vial and gulped it down. He shot Snape an extremely relieved look as his airways softened and breathing was no longer painful. Taking in a deep breathe Draco stood up away from the shelf he has been leaning on for support.  
  
"That was the full hit, wasn't it?"  
  
Snape nodded at Draco and parroted the blonde's early reply, "Seems so, yes."  
  
"Wow," uttered Draco, slightly awed at the full extent of his Veela powers that had almost choked him with desire a few moments ago. The Vindescrisate Pendant had just come to it's end apparently and unleashed all of his Veela desires upon Draco with no warning.  
  
"Draco, we need to visit Albus."  
  
Draco sighed, "Yes, I- I know."  
  
"Professor Snape?" Ron called out from the potions classroom, having finished all of the desks.  
  
Snaped sighed loudly and replied, "You may leave now, Mr. Weasley."  
  
The click of the dungeon door followed and Snape turned back to the other Slytherin, "As must we, come along Draco. I can lecture you later, but, for the time being, we must see Albus."  
  
Snape shot Draco a worried look and strode from the supply room. Draco followed in his wake, still marveling over the strength of the Veela wave that had hit him.

* * *

A/N Thank you to all my blessed reviewers! : : offers cookies to all : : 


	9. Gargoyles and Guesses

Draco fell into step with the dark haired Potions Master as they rounded their fifth corner on the way to the Headmasters office.

"Severus?"

Snape looked over at the blonde Slytherin walking within a hairsbreadth of him, and took in the sight of the young man.

Draco had not changed all that much since he had been a mere seven years old. Now, at seventeen, his face was sharper and more defined. He had a strong chin which was often pointed upwards in arrogance or defiance. His blond hair had grown to reach his shoulders and was, for the most part, only held out of his eyes with a new wizarding moose that the young man swore miracles too. Snape had often chuckled at the boy as he pulled his hair in frustration and moaned continuously when it got unnecessarily ruffled. It had greatly amused Snape that the young Slytherin never complained about his hair during Quidditch matches or when he flew anywhere on a broom. It seemed the laws, when it came to the perfection of hair, were thrown out of the highest window and to the wind when Quidditch practices stepped into play. Draco had kept his place on the Quidditch team for all his years at Hogwarts, yet, his strive to beat the-boy-who-lived had lessened over the years. Draco had witnessed and been part of many things larger than Quidditch rivalry, and had greeted old foes with a different opinion after the Great War came to an end in his sixth year.

He had matured over the years, yet still appeared the spoilt brat around certain others, and still strove to undermine what he once referred to as the Mudblood. Now, however, un-hidden anxiety shone in the depths of his silver eyes as he looked at Snape.

"Yes?" replied Snape, slowing his pace a little, to give the young man time to talk before they reached their destination.

Draco slowed his pace in response to Snape and took in a breath. "This has gone a bit beyond my control now hasn't it?"

Snape's features slid into a grimace of sorts, as much as the man would allow anyway. "It can be fixed, I, for once, am just entirely sure how."

Draco gave a soft chuckle at Snape's small confession to not knowing all the things in the world, then sobered as they turned another corner and stood in front of two stone gargoyles.

"Snickers," whispered Snape.

The stone gargoyles merely glanced at him and stayed perfectly still. Confusion painted its prominence on both of the men's faces at this. Draco turned to face Snape and raised an eyebrow.

Snape held his hands up in a minute shrug and turned back to the stone gargoyles. He glared at the stone statues and muttered names of several sweets in succession under his breath. At the seventh sweet Draco interrupted him.

"Severus Snape! Those sweets are illegal!" exclaimed Draco in a mock shocked voice.

The dark haired man smirked back at the blonde and shrugged nonchalantly, "Oh?"

Draco snorted and shook his head. "Dropping the subject of your fondness for untouchable sweets, why didn't the first password work in the first place? I take it a 'Snickers' is, in fact, an actual sweet, yes?"

"Yes. You really should get out more Draco," replied Snape with a snort of his own. "I don't know why the first password didn't work, that's what it was yesterday."

"Why were you here yesterday?" inquired the blonde boy, innocence coating his tone.

"Never you mind."

Draco gasped, "You two are having a secret affair aren't you? The rumours I heard this morning at breakfast are true! Sev, I thought you trusted me to tell me all these things!"

Snape gagged violently and his eyes widened uncontrollably, it was perhaps the shock of the accusation that let his emotions roam freely over his features. "What!" he coughed.

Draco smirked.

"Oh, just a few little rumours Sev." Draco waved his hand as he finished his sentence and glanced about the corridor in a bored manner.

"A few rumours?!" spluttered the normally articulate Potions Professor.

Draco laughed at the dark haired man and winked.

"You were joking weren't you?" uttered Snape, aiming a steely glare at the blonde.

"Might have been," Draco replied, in a most carefree voice. "Who knows?"

Snape rolled his eyes at Draco and went back to muttering the names of sweets at the stone gargoyles.

"Sev...?"

"Yes?"

"Maybe he's not in."

Snape sighed. "Draco, even when Albus is out of his office, the portraits inside his office run through the castle to alert him of visitors waiting for his presence. We are, for once just not waiting inside his office for him, but outside his office."

Draco raised a sceptical brow at his guardian and friend. "Then why did the password not work?"

Snape shrugged and rolled his eyes. "I have no idea. Maybe Albus left a note or something about his apparent absence, and maybe I just didn't get it."

At the word 'absence' the stone gargoyle on the left began shifting slightly. Both men turned away from each other and towards the stone gargoyles.

The stone statue began extracting a short plump arm from its side, with what appeared to be a piece of parchment held in its fist.

Both Draco and Snape raised a brow at the statue. They looked at each other, then back at the statue.

Snape reached out delicate Potion making fingers and snatched at the note. He opened it and a second piece of parchment fluttered to the ground. Picking it up, Snape scanned both pieces of parchment and mutely handed them to Draco to read.

Draco took the letters from the Potions Professor with a quirked brow and set to reading them in silence.

_**To Severus and Mr. Malfoy,**_

_**I am aware of the incident that occurred toady in the potions room, I have, however, been called away to see to another more political matter and I can only offer you my words in writing at this present moment.**_

_**Please see to my second note and contact me if there are any more problems.**_

_**Yours,**_

_**Albus Dumbledore.**_

__

A silver brow shot up at Snape in a questioning manner, but fell into a frown as Snape waved his hand at the second note clutched in Draco's fingers, that the blonde had not yet read.

It was not a letter in fact, but a magical copy of a page from a book. Draco's brow shot up into his hairline in surprise, and then down into a frown as he began reading.

_**Male Veela; **_

_**The Male Veela are rare in their numbers, but extraordinary in their attributes; attributes that they, in fact, do not share with Female Veela, contrary to popular belief.**_

_**Complete Male Veela are so few due to what some believe to be tragic inter breeding that has been taking place over the last centuries. However, this only leads to further speculation of the Veela's themselves.**_

_**Both Female and Male Veela share common characteristics such as the powerful pheromones that they can produce at will to induce potential partners, or a potential playmate. The pheromones themselves are a burst of magical sense that cling to other magical auras, such as that of a fellow Veela, or even a Witch or Wizard, and attempt to mix with that magical aura. **_

_**It is this process of magical mixing that often renders the 'victim' of the pheromone burst completely unstable in both body and mind. When a Veela's magic does not connect completely with that of another Veela, or in toady's centuries, another Witch or Wizard, the Veela will release its hold on the others magic, and draw in their pheromones, leaving the other aware of their surroundings once more.**_

_**Male Veela however, support a slightly different type of pheromone to that of the Female's. Both Male and Female Veela use their pheromones when trying to find their other half that aligns them in the magical sense, but a Female's pheromones can also be used to entice Male's, for the need of reproduction. Male's pheromones do not work like this, purely because Female Veela hold this power over their pheromones, so there is no need for Males to do so as well.**_

_**Male Veela however, as they do not have this sensual control over their pheromones that the Female's do, and can be more at bay of their emotions. Male Veela have been known to suffer from terrible jealously that has lead to some truly catastrophic results, for both the Veela and the spouse.**_

_**Male Veela are often of an intense heart, and hold a higher magical sense than Female's in certain areas of magical practice. For example, Male Veela have been known to be more efficient at wand less magic than Female Veela, due to the difference in their pheromones, which can, in turn, alter the Veela's magical talents. **_

_**Male Veela have great control over others minds, and like Female Veela, change appearance when angered. **_

_**Both the Female and Male Veela have the ability to wield the power of the elements, but only with great practice, and only some manage to do so. All Veela's however, have to learn control over the elements, otherwise when angered, certain elements that best represent that particular Veela's inner soul will mould with their anger, often causing thunder storms and the like.**_

_**Part Veela;**_

_**Part Veela share the same attributes as full Veela, but in a lesser quantity. See the further reference for fuller information.**_

Draco's mouth dropped open and his frown bent deeper into his skin. He glanced up at Snape and attempted words, only to be rewarded with a small croak.

"But...? Where are the- the references? Where's the rest?" exclaimed Draco, after several attempts at speech.

He turned the parchment over in his hands to see if there were any missed bits of writing on the reverse side of the page, much like he had done with the first note from Albus. Seeing only blank parchment on the back of the notice the blonde looked up at Snape.

Snape merely shrugged.

"Severus!" cried the blonde.

The dark haired man plucked the pieces of parchment from the younger boy's grasp and read the first note once more. He shook his head in annoyance and snorted.

"I will owl Albus and ask what all this stupidity is about."

"That doesn't help me right now, does it?" exclaimed Draco, throwing his hands in the air.

"No I'm afraid it doesn't, but both you and I were expected in class rooms about five minutes ago..."

"Oh shit. I'm late for McGonagall's lesson, oh for the love of Merlin," muttered Draco. He reached over to Snape and plucked both pieces of parchment from his grasp and folded them neatly into a square. "I'll drop by later."

"Yes you will. You have detention tonight if you hadn't forgotten. I'll expect you in the dungeons tonight at seven sharp, so we can discuss this puzzle, and then you can serve detention at half seven with Weasley and Zambini."

Snape gave Draco a curt nod, and with a small smile he rounded on his heel, leaving Draco standing alone in the corridor with a lost expression and a fistful of parchment.

Draco sighed and fished for his wand in his robes. Drawing it out, he crumpled the pieces of parchment into another pocket and began walking the opposite way to Snape, and towards the Transfiguration rooms.

"Accio bag." Draco muttered and waved his wand, automatically catching the black bag that soared down the corridor with his free hand. Swinging it onto his shoulder, he quickened his pace, rounded a corner and walked out of sight.


	10. Devious Minds and Butter Fingers?

Snape looked up from his desk as the heavy door to his suite slammed open. A very pissed off looking Draco Malfoy stalked through the open door and rounded on the greasy haired professor as if he were the object of every frustration in the world, and of course, the blame for each and every one of those frustrations.

Draco's eyes flashed dangerously. He dropped his bag onto the floor, all appreciation for its fineness forgotten in his bad mood. His hands flew to his hips, and he tapped his foot, just once.

Snape uncurled from his seated position at his desk, and placed his hands palm down on the table top. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head at the blonde.

Draco continued to stare at the professor, and tapped his foot once more. He was the very picture of a person that had been wronged, with the attitude to go splendidly with it.

"What now...?" asked Snape, his eyebrows creasing into confusion.

Draco merely tapped his foot again. One stray piece of platinum darted into his face, and into his eye, only to be shaken out a moment later.

"McGonagall has extended my detention-"

Two black brows shot down into a sharp frown. "She has no authority to do such a thing-"

"-into cleaning duties..."

Snape stopped in his sentence, his eyes mirroring Draco's in a dangerous way.

"What brought this about?"

"I was late."

"And...?"

Draco glanced at the floor and mumbled.

"And...?"

Grey eyes shot up to face Snape, annoyance reflecting in their realms. "I transfigured Potter's chair into a black hole alright?" he mumbled. "It did wonders for his hair..."

"Pray tell, just how did this do wonders for his hair?" Snape asked. He looked genuinely interested.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Please, just get to the lecture."

"Lecture...? You will serve the detention Draco. That was an absolutely _horrendous_ thing to do to the poor insignificant boy." Snape smirked.

"You get way too much pleasure out of others pain, you know that?"

Shaking his head Draco unfolded from his madam position and slouched into the chair opposite Snape's. He conjured a tea cup for himself and stretched his long legs out, ankles finding each other in a knot of leg and shoe.

"Oh I know. It's a terrible burden I have to carry each day, shame."

"Yes, shame on every poor bugger who crosses your path." Draco snorted, sipped at his tea and conjured a biscuit.

"You have another ten minutes until Weasley and Zambini arrive."

Draco dipped his biscuit and bit at the edge, a purr meeting his lips at the taste. "And...?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "I can see you are in your immature brat mood."

Draco choked on his biscuit. "Hey! I resent that, I was never immature!"

Snape smirked and got up from his chair. Sweeping around the side of his desk he disappeared into the potions classroom. "Come Draco."

Draco shook his head, rolled his own eyes to the ceiling, plopped the last biscuit into his mouth and threw the tea cup into the air.

"And don't break that tea cup on my floor."

Grey eyes widened an inch as the blonde pointed his wand at the tea cup and banished it before it hit the floor. He cared too much about the expensive carpet to destroy it with china splinters, or, too much about the owner of the expensive carpet. He spun on his heel and followed through the doorway he had slammed into the room by and was met with Snape's back.

"Sev-" said Draco reaching out an arm to tap the man on the back, extending his arm back to his own body like he had been shocked when the man spoke.

"Weasley why on earth are you early?" said Snape.

Ron Weasley stood in the centre of the potions classroom, a furious shade of scarlet painting his face. He held his wand in one hand and a piece of parchment in the other. He opened his mouth, thought better off it, and snapped it shut with finality.

Snape raised a black eyebrow in a sardonic motion and unfolded his arms. Gesturing around the room he spoke.

"Weasley, I know you are fortunate enough to attend Hogwarts School as I myself have the unfortunate pleasure of teaching you, thus you must realise no incantations can be cast in my potions room without my presence?"

Ron turned a deeper shade of scarlet, righted his shoulders and said nothing.

"No? Well, in that case Weasley I see I shall have to educate you in this fact."

Snape gave a flick of his wand at the red head, smirked internally as the boy flinched, and charmed the piece of parchment from his hand. Catching the parchment he scanned it and almost smiled at the idiocy of the boy.

"Weasley, just precisely how ignorant are you? If you were to steal for Potter and Granger from my store cupboard why did you not wait until I had left the room?" smirked Snape.

Ron's mouth twitched as his suppressed an anger that had begun to build. "You weren't in the room..." he mumbled. He fumbled with his wand back into his pocket and stood still, looking Snape directly in the eye.

Snape cocked his head at the boy, and as if thinking, he spoke very slowly.

"Well, as you technically were not in fact trying to cast in my potions room, but you were attempting theft, I think I shall have to add to your detention duties. You will get details of this extension in our next detention."

The potions door opened and Blaise Zambini walked through it.

"Malfoy." He nodded at the blonde.

Draco nodded back. "Zambini, how lovely of you to join us..."

Blaise smirked at the blonde, and then nodded at Snape.

"Good evening My Zambini. Mr Filch requires your aid on the fourth floor and he has expressed his need for your person in a few minutes. Do not be late."

Blaise's mouth shot open and his eyebrows furrowed. "Professor!"

"Do not be late Mr Zambini and do stop arguing with your peers." Snape replied, waving his hand at the doorway.

Blaise snorted and made his way back across the room, mumbling a complex string of obscenities as his form disappeared through the door frame.

Draco began to laugh quietly, only to be stopped a few moments later at a glance from Snape.

"Now, Mr Weasley, as I cannot trust you in my store cupboard, Draco will pass ingredients to you, which you will prepare as we did in the last lesson. I do hope you were paying attention, otherwise every piece you molest will come out of your own money for replacement."

Snape turned on his heel and walked back into his private rooms. His passing remark floated into the room after him. "Do not damage any of my utensils either, or each other. I can hear you perfectly well from my rooms."

Ron huffed and kicked the table behind him. He muttered curses as his foot began to throb.

"Now now weasel, _I'm_ certainly not paying for what _you_ break in your childish strops." Draco smirked at the red head and then walked into the store cupboard.

"Oh shut up ferret face."

Draco stalked back out of the store cupboard, threw a jar at Ron and sneered as he failed to catch it. "What was that _Weasel_?"

Ron ignored the blonde and looked down in dismay at the broken jar of ingredients. He bent closer to the glass shards in an attempt to read what the contents had been.

"What was that?" Snape hollered from his rooms.

Ron gulped as he saw the label. Draco had purposely thrown the most expensive ingredient he could find, purely so Ron would have to pay for its replacement.

Snape stormed into the room, his face alight with contempt at the red head.

Ron snapped up form his huddled position and gulped audibly. "I-"

The professor's eyes shot to the mess on the floor and back up again at the red head.

"You will replace that jar Weasley and have the next month in detention with me added on to the time you already have. Do you understand me?" he roared.

"Yes." Ron mumbled at the man, wisely choosing not to argue with Snape when his eyes glittered like coal in his anger.

Snape waved his wand at the mess and spun on his heel back into his private rooms, massaging his temples as he went.

As Snape's black robe floated out of sight Ron rounded on the blonde.

"You- you complete whanker. You complete arsehole."

Draco shrugged at the red head.

"You utter bastard Malfoy." Growled Ron, his face a wash of vibrant red, hands clenching and un-clenching at his sides.

"Whoops. Did I not give enough warning? I am so sorry." said Draco in voice that could have melted butter. He clasped his hands in front of his waist imitating a young child.

Ron's lip quivered violently.

Draco sneered at him and walked back into the storeroom. What was he doing? He had wanted to get Ron into trouble, hadn't he? Hang on, since when had he called the red head Ron? Oh my god. Draco slapped his forehead. "Oh god..." he groaned. "No, no, no..."

For the remaining few hours spent in the potions room Ron and Draco barely exchanged grunts between them let alone words, nasty or nice. Ron had kept a leash on his anger and Draco had kept a leash on his razor like tongue.

Snape dismissed them just past eleven.

Ron shot towards the door and stalked through it, his back tensed up like a wild cat before a fight.

Draco followed slowly after, nodding a goodbye at Snape as he walked through the door. The heavy door closed after him and he glanced up the corridor. Catching sight of Ron's cloak swishing around a corner, he followed.

Jogging some way he caught up with the red head. He reached out an arm to tap the boy, and re-coiled for the second time that evening as the red head shot around, an angry look darting in his eyes.

"What do you want Malfoy?" he said flatly.

Draco frowned slightly and rolled his shoulders. "I want to pay for the jar."

Ron reeled. His face registered shock, surprise, and then disgust.

"I don't need your charity ferret face."

Draco bristled at the hated name, took a deep breath and tried again.

"Look Weasel, I am paying Snape for the jar, got it? Good." With that he turned away from the red head and marched back down the corridor.

"No you are bloody well not. I have said I don't need your flipping charity." Ron said, walking after the blonde and catching up with his pace after only a few steps of his long legs. He reached out to Draco's arm.

Draco spun around just before the red head's palm reached his arm and sneered at him. "Yes I am, now run along to your precious Gryffindor's."

Ron's face flitted between anger and confusion. Draco had truly thrown him for once. This new side of the blonde was as much unexpected as it was disliked.

Draco took advantage of this momentary puzzlement and turned the corner in the corridor.

Ron shook his head and followed the blonde, only to be greeted with an empty corridor. "What? Where the...?"

He breathed out a long sigh. Draco was a prefect, his room could be anywhere. It did not necessarily have to anywhere near the Slytherin dorms, which he and Harry still knew from their second year.

Ron raked his hands through his red hair, and muttered something under his breath. He turned back on himself and headed towards the Gryffindor dorms.

Draco stepped out of seemingly no-where and shook his head. He would never understand Gryffindor's. If that had been him, he would have searched out for the seemingly missing person.

He too, made his way back down the corridor he and Ron had come down. Making his way to his dorms he frowned. Why, oh why had he offered to pay for someone, and a Weasley, of all people? It was disgusting. He smiled.

It was petty money for him, yet a perfect opportunity to grab the red head unawares, in concern of the jar payment of course. Draco turned the last corridor in his route and practically bounded into his dorm, well, as much as a Malfoy allows himself to bound anywhere.

A few minutes later the blonde frowned. He wasn't meant to be engaging Ron in extra contact, was he? Wait a minute, Ron? What happened to Weasel? A distant part of him whispered the ugly truth, even though he refused to listen.

_You like this boy Draco Malfoy._

Draco snorted in a most un-Malfoy-ish manner and threw himself onto his bed, burrowing his head into his pillow.

_Yeah, and?_


	11. Gryffindor Warmth

Ron whispered the password to the communal dorms and climbed through the narrow awning, his mind still occupied on a particular blonde. Harry and Hermione looked up from their curled positions on the chunky sofas in front of the fire and greeted Ron as he made his way across the common room.

He was a prefect now, but still preferred at times to be in the common room, mostly when something was bothering him. Coming from such a large family that he leaned so strongly on his friends when times were hard, sometimes his prefect room, lovely in its own ways of seclusion, seemed cold.

He folded long legs into the armchair opposite the sofa Harry and Hermione occupied and half smiled. The warmth of the common room, with the years of happy memories floating inside its walls soothed Ron's confusion over Draco's funny turn. As if sensing his quiet moment Harry and Hermione said nothing.

After a few minutes Ron spoke. "Do you remember when Fred and George almost set alight to Creevey with their Cherry Bombs?"

Harry chuckled, and nodded enthusiastically at Ron, adding his memory to the tale. "When they were in the progress stage?" He imitated inverted commas with his fingers and laughed.

Ron grinned and nodded. "Damn that was funny… Where is Creevey anyway? Shouldn't he be glued to your side Harry?"

Harry shrugged, "Haven't seen him all day."

"He was in the library…" Hermione mumbled, "With Ginny."

"What?" squeaked Ron, his previous worry over the Draco incident gone at the mention of his sister. "With Ginny…?"

Hermione shrugged and grimaced a little guiltily. "I saw them earlier before dinner. I think he has really good intentions Ron. I think he really likes her, he hasn't taken one picture of her."

Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione. "Why does that make it any better?"

She shrugged again. "At least we know he hasn't gone mad stalker over her, like he did for Harry."

"But he's spent the entire evening with her!" cried Ron.

It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. "She is sixteen Ron; she's not a baby anymore. _She_ has spent the entire evening with _him_."

"But- he…" Ron trailed off at the look on Hermione's face.

"Oh fine, but I am watching him." Ron nodded with a certainty, folded his arms very much like a child in a strop and snuggled back into his armchair. "It's past eleven; she should be back by now, curfew an all."

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "Ronald Weasley…"

Ron's mouth opened in a small outrage. He shook his head at Harry.

"Oh no, you two are not bringing me into this." Harry said, uncurling himself from Hermione and shaking his hands in surrender. "No, no."

Ron shot a sad smile at Harry. "Whipped…" he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

Harry snorted. "Lanky…"

"Short…" muttered Ron and dropped his gaze to pick at a thread on the armchair. When Harry did not reply he glanced up and grinned.

Harry grinned back. "You haven't got a bed in here anymore have you? Shouldn't actually be here should you? Curfew… now… is that the word?"

Ron opened his mouth in mock shock. "Curfew did you say? What's that… eh … Prefect? I think so."

Hermione laughed. "You two can argue all night for all I care, I am going to bed." She got up form the sofa, kissed Harry on the cheek, and ruffled Ron's hair before he ducked away from her hand.

"So how was the quality time with old Snape?" asked Harry once Hermione had left. He leaned forward from his place on the sofa and poked the fire. It blazed once more and Ron chuckled.

"What?" he asked.

"So muggle..." Ron replied.

Harry shook his head and laughed. "So, how was Snape time?"

Ron's own laughter died a little. "It was okay, nothing special."

Harry frowned. "No explosions?"

"No. The git gave me another month." Ron mumbled.

"What!" Harry cried. "That's not fair, what happened- what did-?"

Ron shrugged. "Malfoy..."

"I knew it!" cried Harry, "What did he do?"

"Only being his usual dick of a self." Ron replied, dropping his gaze.

Harry clenched his fist in anger on Ron's behalf. He unclenched it when he saw that Ron himself had not exploded into his fiery temper.

"Ron?"

"Yeah…?"

Harry frowned. He bent his head towards the red head then raised his eyebrow into his jet black mop of hair.

Ron laughed. He had truly puzzled Harry. Though he was quite puzzled himself over the whole incident. "He-"

"What?" Harry questioned.

"-got me into more trouble. I'll get the ferret face back. Don't worry about it. Just gives me more time eh?"

Harry raised both eyebrows in quiet shock at the red heads placid reaction to this event. "Right…"

Ron folded long legs out from underneath him and got up from his armchair. "I better be off, Divination early tomorrow eh?"

Harry leant back in full on shock at the red head now. "You what… since when did you have a conscience about divination? What happened to you? Did Snape force feed you some illegal potion?"

Ron chuckled, and then felt a twinge of guilt for not telling Harry just what Malfoy had done, or _his_ sudden growth for a conscience.

"See you tomorrow mate." He simply said instead. Ron made his way out of the common room, leaving an utterly bewildered Harry in his wake.

As the portrait door gently closed behind him Ron let out a tight breath. Why had he just lied to Harry? Well… not told him the entire truth? What was happening to him?

He shook his head as if shaking the thoughts from his brain and set off down the corridor towards his dorm. His portrait waved a sleepy hello at him and obliging opened the door at his whispered password. Stepping through the portrait Ron closed his eyes for a moment. It was by now, well past midnight and his body was telling him so. He stumbled into the bathroom, ran a toothbrush around his gums, then fell into bed, fully clothed into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Draco cocked his head. Nope, the red head was definitely asleep. Unknowingly, in his own sleep, he had been awoken by the conversation between Ron and Harry, having fallen asleep during the previous conversation which included Hermione.

His own thoughts reflected the red heads fitful sleep. _Why had Ron not told Harry what he had done?_ Draco shook his head in complete and utter puzzlement, much as Harry had been left with at Ron's absence of explosions at the Snape situation. He sunk lower into his mattress and frowned.

"It really does the mind no good to dwell on things Draco."

Draco shot up from the bed in shock, his wand clutched tightly in his grasp.

"Now, now Draco, is that really the way to greet me?"

Silver rims shot even wider as Draco came face to face with the body to which held the well known voice in his room. His mouth parted. "What-"

"Eloquence Draco, eloquence at all times." Lucius said, tipping his own wand to close Draco's mouth.

"How did you-" Draco stumbled with his words, for one of very few times in his life.

"Voldemort rewards those loyal to him to the death very well Draco, it would do you good to remember that." Lucius replied, casually pocketing his own wand.

Draco swallowed and regained his composure after a short battle with his facial expressions. "How did you get here?"

"Portkey Draco. Do not be so foolish."

"Yes sir." Replied Draco, years of training surfacing over his pride.

Lucius sneered at Draco, then lifted a marble hand to swipe him.

The blow did not take Draco by surprise, but nor did he move from it. His head reeled to the side and pain shot over his skin like miniature burns. His face remained solid as he swung it back to face Lucius.

"The Dark Lord has ordered your service Draco."

Inside, a small part of Draco reached out for an imaginary rope, a rope that might pull him from a deep dark ditch. He knew better than to reach for it however, for then it would be the same rope that could have given redemption, which would hold his neck in its last caress.

He nodded at Lucius. "When shall I move?"

With that Lucius withdrew a small ruby. Draco placed his hand on the ruby and closed his eyes as his navel shot from his body.


End file.
